Only Watching
by CircleLogicWorksBecause
Summary: How did he end up watching his own funeral, wishing he could only tell people what was on his mind? Clint Barton is no coward, but Clint Barton is supposed to be dead. Stared as a oneshot, but I gave in. Clintasha.
1. Chapter 1

**This was floating around with all of the plot bunnies. So here it is for you!**

You don't betray someone who trusts you. You don't betray someone you trust. That's not what trust is, not what trust is for.

Clint Barton was on a rooftop again. An unfamiliar roof, his least favorite kind of roof. He had examined every inch of the roof, making sure he knew all of the places to perch. New York's skyline was laid out in front of him. Stark Tower was glowing with light, but he couldn't see anyone moving around.

One hand gently caressed his bow, as he tried to comfort himself. It didn't work. Not even the familiarity of his beloved bow could calm Hawkeye now.

If only he could yell to them so they could hear him. Then maybe he wouldn't fear so gross, like he'd done something horribly wrong. He had, of course. He had done something worse that any murder he had ever committed. He had betrayed people who he knew would be hurt by it. People he was close to always got hurt. Always. Hawkeye had known that since her was 7 years old. Forgetting that caused all of this. He had gotten too attached.

Natasha would be crushed. Maybe no one else would no about it; Natasha was very good at hiding her true feelings. But if it was bad enough, she would lock herself away. She would hide physically. When she had to see people, it would be brief and silent. Clint knew that. He knew Natasha more than he knew anything. The knife would be driven even farther into the team by Natasha's reclusiveness caused by Clint's deception. His fault.

Clint didn't want to be part of SHEILD anymore. But he had no other option. He couldn't go back to the Avengers. They wouldn't accept him, even if he could get through SHEILD.

It was an impasse. Clint had no out. That's what killed him. There was no way to make this right. Absolutely no way. Natasha would never forgive him. The rest of the team would never be able to forgive him. Just after they had started to get close.

It was a mission. A stupid mission. He didn't know that it would lead to all of this.

A classic Hawkeye bad guy. The Avengers were being threatened, they could only afford to send out one. Hawkeye or Black Widow. Hawkeye drew the short stick and ended up in Africa.

A serial killer was running around, going after innocent children. Hawkeye could not tolerate that. Children were something he would always protect. They all deserved a childhood, something he never got.

So he went after him and shot him from a distance. That man was out like a light within minutes of Hawkeye taking aim. He was no longer a problem. That wasn't it, however. As Hawkeye was about to return home, to protect his team, to turn back into Clint Barton after a long hot day, it hit the fan.

That child killer, possible child molester, had been one of many. They all had a boss, the most horribly vicious of them all. His name was unknown, the world knew him only as Charge. In Charge. And Charge did not like the fact that Hawkeye killed one of his best men. Charge looked into Hawkeye, and looked into Clint Barton even further. When Clint was just about to leave, Charge busted into the place he was staying.

After a long, drawn out, villainous speech about how he was going to kill Clint and then destroy everything he loved slowly, and painfully. He didn't mean it. Clint knew that. Clint knew Natasha, people weren't difficult for him anymore. The only person Charge wanted dead was Clint. If he wanted Clint's loved ones dead, he would do it while the archer was alive to torture his mind before he died. But that's not what that was about. It was about Clint dying. That's all. He was a coward.

A grenade was planted. Charge bolted. Clint was blown backwards, out of the building and onto the hard packed earth. It could have killed him. So easily. He had landed just perfectly that every bone in his body didn't shatter, that hid ribs didn't puncture his own lungs. It was pure luck that Clint Barton was still alive.

At least, he was still alive to everyone that never knew him.

Clint was hurt, sure. He spent a few weeks in medical, sure. But he didn't die. It was a long, painful battle, but he didn't die. Die like he was supposed to.

He was supposed to die! That's what would keep the Avengers safe. Charge found out Clint made it, Charge went after him and the people close to him. That was the only way.

So, Clint died. Legally. According to all of the documents and records, Clint Barton was killed on a mission.

There was a letter sent to the Avengers. Clint could imagine any of them opening that letter, reading those words, 'We are terribly sorry to inform you that Agent Clinton Barton was killed on a mission in Sudan.' There was more to it, of course, but that was the gist. Thor or Tony would have been loud about announcing it, Steve or Bruce would have quietly mourned for a moment before breaking it to the rest of them the most gently they could. If Natasha had opened it…

Clint hated himself. He hated himself for not dying. That's not the greatest reason to hate your life, but Clint did. Having to look at that damn tower every day and know Natasha was in there alone killed him. Cold fingers clawed at him. Not like Loki, like guilt.

He hated himself for not knowing how to tell Natasha he was okay. He hated that he was watching his own funeral.

It was sunset. There was no coffin, they didn't give his friends any remains. The team still got him a spot in the cemetery and a headstone. When he asked Fury what it said, he was told 'A loyal friend, a good brother, a straight shooter.' His name and years of life were on there, but he didn't care about those.

The secret SHEILD building allowed him to watch the funeral through binoculars. All of them, even the gods, wore black. Loki was there. The god had shown up disoriented a month before Clint 'died'. He had been tortured and abused and brainwashed himself by the Chitauri. His tale was a sad one, and his begging must have gotten him somewhere. If Natasha let him go to her best friend's funeral, she trusted him. That was enough for Clint. Her opinion would always be enough for Clint, no matter how much he hated that guy.

All of the men wore suits with purple ties, because it was Clint's funeral after all. It wouldn't be complete without purple. Pepper was in a short black sundress and purple pumps. Natasha was wearing a black evening gown he recognized, she'd worn it on a mission before. Clint could just barely make out a flash of purple around her neck and in her hair. He couldn't see a tear rolling down her cheek, and he didn't want to.

Words were being said by everyone except Loki. Natasha's offering was very short, most likely very vague. The others said more, depending on how much they really knew Clint. He remembered sneaking around in the air vents to prank them all after they'd gotten closer. He made them breakfast in the mornings.

He'd helped Pepper with fashion advice, because he always helped Natasha prepare before certain types of missions, and applied her eyeliner once when she was dead tired.

Bruce turned out to be a huge fan of chocolate chip pancakes and Clint watched his face light up every morning he woke up to them. Not to mention, cookies and coffee cake helped calm him down.

Thor always went to Clint for Pop-tarts and advice. For some reason, he seemed to trust the archer.

Loki was too quiet and get to know. Clint generally avoided him, leaving the dark haired god with nothing to say.

Steve sparred with him. Steve always won, but Clint was always up for the challenge. Always.

Tony was different. The two of them were in an ongoing prank war, allowing both of them a safe release for pent up nervous energy. Laughter and teasing taunts were shared. Nerf guns and water balloons were a few of their favorites.

And Natasha….

The party of mourners all left slowly. Natasha stayed put, staring intently at the headstone. Bruce laid a hand on her shoulder before turning around and leaving her alone. Clint swallowed the rising guilt in his throat. He forced himself to watch her.

Natasha's red stained lips were moving. She was talking to him. There was something she wanted him to know. Clint wanted to hear it, wanted to answer.

Soon the strongest woman he had ever met had her head in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. Clint could almost hear the gasping sobs escaping her. He wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around her, to tell her how sorry he was, to say that he was at fault and that he wasn't dead and that he was so so so so sorry for leaving her alone like that.

Clint would never leave her alone.

He couldn't. He knew what it was like to feel completely abandoned and alone, and he knew Natasha knew too. That wasn't a feeling she should have to relive. It was the worst feeling in the world and Clint couldn't wish anything even close to that on her.

Clint couldn't even scratch her when they sparred each other. He couldn't hurt her.

You don't betray someone who trusts you. You don't hurt someone you love.

**This is just a oneshot unless I get a response that you guys want more of it. But for now, this is it. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I have given into peer pressure. Last chapter was Clint's, here is Natasha's inner thoughts. **

Pepper was watching Natasha carefully. The Black Widow was getting dressed slowly, hesitantly. She had taken a very long time to choose her dress, a long black evening gown that she looked at with extreme sadness. Pepper just put on her pumps and left the agent alone.

That's what Natasha had been waiting for. She fell to the ground as lightly as she could. Her hands were quickly tangled in her red hair, longer than it was during the Loki incidence. Clint loved it when it was long. Clint loved that black dress.

But she wasn't wearing any purple yet. Wasn't she the one that insisted everyone wore something purple? If Clint saw that no one wore something purple to his funeral he would be angry. Of course, he wouldn't be too pleased he was having a funeral in the first place. Natasha wasn't either. Would she ever be able to go on a mission again without breaking down with memories? She was SHEILD's best; she _had_ to keep going on missions.

Back to the purple. She has to focus! Purple. A thin silver necklace decorated with amethysts was soon clasped around her neck, and long earrings matched. There was a little purple barrette with opals dotting it that she set to the side until her shaky hands were done pulling her red locks into a bun. Sadly, that was all she had. Hopefully it was enough for Clint.

Natasha would not cry. Black Widow would not cry. She had to be Black Widow for a few minutes while she applied her makeup, waterproofed it, and stepped out of her room. Natasha would start crying, Black Widow knew better.

It hurt Natasha to see the group of men waiting for her. It hurt her to see that none of the purple tied men were Clint. It hurt her to see the looks on her friend's faces when they saw her. But Black Widow was cold. Black Widow wasn't hurt.

She really didn't want to see Loki at the funeral. As tempted as she was to tell him to just stay away from anything having to do with Clint, Natasha knew the slippery god meant no harm. If she had the slightest thought otherwise he wouldn't be going.

So Loki was going. He was stuck to Thor's side anyway.

Pepper was on Tony's arm, and somber expressions donned them. Steve and Bruce both looked at Natasha with such concerned expressions that she wanted to yell at them. She wanted to scream that she was okay, that her weaknesses were not to be shard. Then there was that little, buried part that never had a childhood that wanted someone to hold her while she cried. But the only person she would let do that was gone.

While they all walked slowly out of the tower and onto the sidewalks. The cemetery that the gravestone rested in was only a few blocks away. They would walk. As they walked along, Natasha's less than sensible shoes already starting to hurt her recently pampered feet, she remembered opening that letter that led to this day.

She knew what the letter was before she opened it. It was standard issue. We regret to inform you…blah blah blah. Natasha had never had to face a letter like that before. Never had she known someone injured or killed that was close enough to her to get a letter like that.

When that moment finally came, when Natasha was staring down the SHEILD logo with dread sinking her stomach, she wasn't ready. Black Widow took a seat in the back of her mind and Natasha, Clint Barton's best friend, was in charge. And Natasha was hurt to the core.

Natasha was breaking down. She was crumbling as soon as she started reading. The little girl in her clung to the hope that Clint was only injured, and when that little part was shot down Natasha felt it like a punch to the gut. It hurt more than any torture she had ever been subject to. Natasha Romanoff was alone in the world. Her best friend was dead. Dead. Dead. Alone.

Her knees buckled, unable to hold her weight. The thud of her joints against the floor sent people to her side. Steve was there, his hand on her shoulder, and he was yelling something, probably asking if she was okay. But Natasha couldn't tell. The ringing in her ears made everything else silent in comparison. Her mind was racing and she kept picturing Clint. Clint laughing, Clint near tears, Clint injured, Clint baking, Clint dead. Clint dead. Exploded on the ground with dirt ground into his pores. Natasha never wanted to picture him like that.

"Natasha! Natasha!" Steve was still yelling when her ears finally cleared and she could hear him.

One hoarse word managed to escape the capable woman's lips. "Clint…"

Steve took the letter. All of the other Avengers circled around him as the super soldier read it out loud. The words pounded in Natasha's ears. We regret to inform you that Agent Clinton Barton was killed on a mission in Sudan.

The mission was supposed to be so easy. But it took away the only family Natasha had left.

So here she was. Walking in shoes that were so uncomfortable looking that Clint would have been asking her why she didn't just wear converse or something. His shoes would be plain and worn out, like they always were. It's where she was walking, and the fact that there was no one mocking her shoes that made Black Widow come out. Natasha had to hide away so she wouldn't start collapsing into tears. Clint was the only person who would ever see her like that.

They reached the cemetery, reached the headstone Tony had bought for him. Black Widow wasn't sure how Tony knew that Clint had a brother, but it was true that he tried to be a good one. He was the straightest shooter SHEILD had ever seen, and the most loyal of friends. Clinton Barton, 1978-2012.

Those words sent Natasha even farther back into the recesses of her mind. Black Widow could control her emotions. Black Widow felt no pain. Black Widow understood that emotion was weakness and that Natasha didn't need any weakness. That's what would keep Natasha safe. Natasha needed to stay safe.

The team was in a half circle around the grave. No one wore anything but the most somber face their face could make. They were all staring at the headstone, at the hard packed earth that would traditionally hold a coffin, if the Avengers had been given remains. No one wanted to go first, it seemed.

So Black Widow stepped forward. "Clint was a friend. A best friend. He saved my life, and I deeply regret not returning the favor when he needed me most. I know he loved us all like family and trusted us with everything dear to him. If he's out there, hopefully the ghost of his bow is with him, or he'll be panicking without it."

Then she stepped back. That's all she had to say. Pepper went up next, talking about how her makeup had never been straighter after a night with little to no sleep. Then Bruce, who touched on Clint's inner baker/chef. Thor followed, leaving an awkward Loki alone in the semicircle, who told them all about the fantastic advice and Pop-tarts he had received from the archer.

Steve said that he would miss the eager sparring partner that he always met with and the good friend he had afterwards. Tony admitted that he had been planning some huge prank for when Clint got back and that he would somehow sorely miss being pelted with Nerf arrows on a regular basis with manly giggles coming from the vents.

Then they couldn't force themselves to do anything but stand there and stare at the headstone.

"We should go," Pepper said softly. Everyone silently agreed and started leaving. But not Black Widow. She couldn't turn away from what represented the life of her best friend. People were leaving and she stayed put. Bruce put a hand on her shoulder.

When he did that, Natasha started to feel her walls crumble. Black Widow couldn't stand being in the forefront anymore. She had just lost her partner. How was she going to do her job without Hawkeye watching her back?

Bruce left too and Natasha was alone, Black Widow had retreated.

She felt like Clint was right there. Like he was still watching her back. That was enough to make her kneel in front of the headstone and start telling Clint what she was feeling the way she had countless time before.

"Clint, I don't know if you can hear me, and you probably can't. But that's okay. I know you didn't always listen anyway. But Clint, I miss you already. You were supposed to be home two days ago, and I was going to tell you something. Maybe. If I could put Black Widow away long enough and we were alone and maybe a little bit drunk. Black Widow's going to miss her Hawkeye, you know. They were good partners.

"You're the one who taught me that I'm not Black Widow, Clint. That I am separate from her. Because you taught me that, you became my friend. Black Widow doesn't have friends, but Natasha does. It makes us sound crazy, doesn't it? But we're not crazy. It only sounds like that because no one else knows what we've been through. We've been through so much, the two of us.

"We fought together so many times. We haven't lost yet as a team, and it's suddenly very clear we're not as effective alone. We helped beat Loki, the most impressive fight we've ever won. He's back and good and quiet now, but at least we beat him once. You beat him more than the rest of us, really. You had to beat him out of your head. Do you remember how confused you were after that? We had a good talk about being unmade. It hurt to have to talk about that with you.

"But we didn't just fight. We recovered together. I've spent weeks waiting next to you in medical, and you've done the same for me. That's one of the best things you could have done for me. Waited for me. For some reason you trusted me Clint. You saved me when no one else gave me a chance. I was a crazy bloodthirsty girl and you saved me instead of following orders and killing me like you were supposed to. I'm forever in your debt, and there's no one else I'd rather owe my life to."

She didn't realize she had started crying a long time ago. But when the steady stream of tears fell over her lips and her throat started to close up, Natasha buried her head in her hands and let the sobs overtake her. But she wasn't done talking to him.

"You left me alone Clint. Do you know what that's doing to me? Who am I going to drunk with after missions and laugh at stupid cheesy movies with? That's what we always did, Clint. Then we had cake and you always got Shirley Temples before you started on the bourbon and I would laugh because they're so girly. I had one too, but you never laughed at me and I was always so grateful for that, Clint. Clint, I don't think I can do this anymore. Work for SHEILD. They killed you! They didn't send me with you! I should have gone with you. Maybe we both would have died, but we'd be where we belong. Together.

"Clint Barton, I hate you for leaving me, and I love you for everything else you've ever done. I love you. I love the way you don't use guns like everyone else and I love the way you grew up in the circus. I love that you never listened to my nagging and changed your hair and I love that you drink Shirley Temples before you get drunk. I love that you gave me a chance and I love that you saved me. Clint Barton, I love you. I love you. And I hope this isn't goodbye. I'll come back sometime and continue this…monologue. Because I can't leave someone I love."

Natasha had calmed down slightly by the end. She made a promise to Clint after tearing out her heart and showing it to whatever was left.

As Natasha walked home in her uncomfortable shoes, she ran into Bruce a block away from the cemetery. He had waited for her far enough away to be respectful and not spy or eavesdrop. Bruce just didn't want her to have to make the journey alone and weak like she was.

Natasha smiled, appreciating the gesture. They didn't say anything as they walked.

Natasha found herself wishing. She hadn't wished in a long time, but she was wishing now. She wished she had told Clint before he went to Sudan. Maybe something, anything, would be different. What is love when it's unknown?

Love is for children. Wishes are for children. Natasha realized that children get the best things of all.

**There. There is the second chapter for you all. So now, here is the $64 question. **

**Twoshot or full-length story? Let me know.**

**I am so happy with all the support I've gotten from you guys for the first chapter. Let me know if this is what you wanted from the next installment, because I wasn't sure. **

**Until next time. **


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't ever go back to her, can I?"

Nick Fury rose his eyebrows. "Her? Don't you mean them? Your team?"

"No, Fury. I mean her. Natasha. I've left her alone long enough." Clint spat back. Nick Fury crossed his hands behind his back and fixed his one eyed glare on the bitter archer in front of him. Clint wasn't getting how serious this was.

"Natasha's a big girl Clint. It's only been a month. She's fine. And if you want her to remain fine, you'll stay away from her. You're hiding from Charge." Clint's eyes flashed and he was tracing his fingers along the place his bow would usually be as Fury talked nonsense.

"Not that big. 27 isn't that big. I'm 35 and I don't want to be abandoned by someone I depended on to be there. We depended on each other, Fury. Isn't she refusing missions? How's that working out for SHEILD?" Clint asked, trying to hit where it hurt.

"Barton! How SHEILD is handling their foreign affairs isn't your business. You made it not your business. I told you. You can't go back to your team or show your face outside of this building or to anyone but me or Agent Hill because you are _hiding from Charge_!" Fury yelled. Even though it was painfully obvious that Clint was restless after a month of being locked away like a precious china doll, the commander wasn't relenting.

"Hiding from Charge? My team is the Avengers! We could hide Hitler if you wanted to! StarkTower had top-of-the-line security equipment, equipment I was enjoying before you sent me on a suicide mission. And now you've hurt Natasha! And it's eating me from the inside! I've been watching her to make sure she's safe, and she is, but she's dead on the inside, Fury! Whenever she goes outside Bruce or Steve is with her because they're the ones that convinced her to go. She used to go for walks every day with me and now she can't stand it. Because you've hurt her, and that makes me more angry than being found by Charge ever could!" Clint's voice was hoarse by the end, but he had made his point.

Clint hadn't really been secretive about his feelings for Natasha around everybody but Natasha, who was the only person who didn't seem to know. Oddly enough, it worked the other way around too. Natasha had wanted to be more than friends with Clint for a very long time, and once again everyone but Clint had seen it. The sexual tension between the two could have been cut with a spoon.

Fury was being backed into a corner, and he knew it. This whole thing lost him two of his best assassins, two of his best eyes. If he wanted either one back, Clint had to get back into the world. And that was not an option.

"Look, Barton. I'll think it over. But you have to realize that I'm not going to compromise the safety of the rest of your team, much less than country. So if I say no, you know why." With that, Nick Fury left, his trench coat whipping out behind him.

Clint laid his head in his hands and practiced deep breathing. It really wouldn't be a good idea to go shoot Fury in the head. So he had to restrain himself.

Fury was walking to another meeting that he knew would be a waste of time. But he was getting desperate.

"Good afternoon, Agent Romanoff." He greeted the stoic woman. Natasha looked up and locked his gaze.

"I already told you no Fury." Natasha said with a warning in her voice. "I meant it."

Fury took a deep breath. "You are very persistent, Agent Romanoff. We really need someone to go to Russia, and no one knows the land around there better than you. SHEILD needs you. We rejected your letter of resignation."

Natasha sighed. "I don't think you can reject that. I don't want to work for SHEILD anymore. I can't, Fury. I can't." Something in her voice wavered.

"It's up to you in the end Agent Romanoff. I'm just here to pointlessly try to convince you. You can go home, you've quit, after all. If you ever change your mind, just let us know. We'll always be waiting for you."

Just like that, Natasha was free. And she wasn't sure she wanted to be.

Sure she wanted to be free from SHEILD, but she didn't want to let go of Clint's memory forever. His memory lingered everywhere in the SHEILD facility. He was everywhere at StarkTower too, so that would have to do.

Back at the tower, Natasha kept herself locked up most of the time. Every couple of days, Steve or Bruce would knock on her door and she would go out for a walk. They were always quiet and respectful, letting her go at her own pace wherever she wanted to go. They never asked why she had taken to wearing beat up old Converse everywhere. It wasn't their business.

Loki spent all of his time curled up with a book or staring out a window, never talking, never smiling. Natasha had given him a book suggestion a few times, always to find that book in his hands the next day. Thor let his brother maintain a quiet existence.

Even Tony left Natasha alone. Her life had gotten a lot quieter recently.

The quiet, benign life she had been leading for two months ended suddenly. A large crash outside of the tower alerted the Avengers to a commotion outside. Doombots.

The battle was almost laughable fast. Loki's magic, Thor's hammer, and the Iron Man suit carried the whole thing. Black Widow, Hulk, and Captain America were focused on the bots, while the other 3 went for the sorcerer himself.

But at one point, Natasha was surrounded. She was kicking and shooting and throwing powerful punches. Really, she had it under control. She was breaking free. And three bots fell down in rapid succession when Natasha didn't even touch them.

In shock, she looked around. No one else had their bots just drop, so they weren't dealing with a Chitauri situation. When she bent to examine the fallen bots, she saw something sticking out of each of their power sources.

It was an arrow. Three arrows, sent with such precision that it hit the perfect spot to send the bots falling. There was only one person who could do that with an arrow…

The fight was so simplistic that Natasha spent a few minutes distracted and the rest of the team was fine. Soon she jumped back in, her mind still half gone.

Clint was gone. He couldn't have just saved her. Right?

Fury had dragged Clint back inside before anyone could see him. The archer had gotten his beloved bow and a few simple arrows and watched the fight, or more specifically, Natasha.

"You are compromising the safety of everyone around you, Barton. Stupid archer that doesn't know what the hell he's doing. Unacceptable. Never going back if this is how he's gonna act." Fury mumbled as he dragged Clint along behind him.

Clint didn't care. He was smiling wider than he had in two months. It was worth it, no matter what Fury would do to him. Because he saved Natasha, the way he always knew he would.

**I'm sorry it's not as good! Please don't throw rocks at me!**

**Let me know what you think! I need constructive criticism on this one guys! **

**Until next time.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I know it's been forever! I'm so sorry! I have no excuse and I am a bad person! But several of you said you would love me forever if I updated and I am holding you to that! **

Everyone noticed the change in Natasha, but no one dared to bring it up.

Of course Steve didn't see her steal a picture he had sketched of the whole team and he definitely didn't see it lying on a table in the library artfully colored in. That would mean that she was attached to the team as a whole.

Of course Thor didn't notice the way that his favorite foods kept being stocked in the pantry even when no one went shopping. No one even went out with enough money to do that except Natasha, but of course he wouldn't assume that. That would mean that Natasha paid attention to his preferences and cared enough about him to cater to them.

Of course Bruce didn't think that Natasha had been the one that draped a blanket over his shoulders when he fell asleep in the lab every now and then. That would mean she saw him as a good friend and not a monster like everyone else.

Of course Tony didn't say anything when she sat next to him as he experimented and idly chatted with him even though he knew she knew he loved company. That would mean she wanted to please him and make him feel less alone.

Of course Loki didn't assume Natasha was the one who went to the public library to get him more Shakespeare and Dickens even though she was the only one who knew those were his favorites. That would mean she wanted him to be able to hide in books that he loved so he didn't have to be uncomfortable.

Of course Clint didn't see her going on so many more walks from his place on the roof. He didn't see her going to the library or the store and her side bag filled with whatever she got that day. He didn't see her smiling because she knew her team would be happier. He didn't see her and grin like an idiot.

Of course not.

But obviously everyone did. Natasha had completely changed after the last battle. One morning she had even gotten up early and made everyone pancakes. She used Clint's old recipe from when he made them breakfast on missions.

It had been three weeks and she was still so darn chipper.

Because Natasha was foolishly holding on to her hallucination of arrows. It wasn't only of arrows, however. Her hallucination branched out to an archer hiding in the shadows like an altruistic Robin Hood, watching her back and keeping her safe.

And then she would start laughing and get caught up in memories of Clint dressing up as famous archers for Halloween side by side with her costumes which always ending up being badass versions of Disney princesses, the characters she wished she got to grow up with. Clint would poke her with his fake arrows and make her guess which arrow out of his entire quiver was the real one. In turn, Natasha would poke him with her fake knives or her real gun. Soon it would be a full on poke war that would escalate into the pair hiding and sneaking up on each other.

Natasha would spend hours in front of a TV next to Steve, neither of them paying attention. Steve would be sketching, Natasha would be reminiscing, and sometimes Loki would be reading on the recliner next to them. Loki completely negated the point of a recliner as he curled into a ball, but it didn't matter. He liked it.

Pepper was still lurking around Natasha whenever she could. The older woman loved keeping the spy occupied.

Natasha had a natural knack for a lot of things. One of them was cooking, another was deadly accuracy with weapons. She did not have a knack for gardening. About six plants died at Natasha's hands over the course of a week. It was a sad week for Pepper's petunias.

Fury had been reporting meaningless things going on in StarkTower to Clint just to keep up his morale. When he told the archer about the incident in which his best friend murdered half a dozen innocent flowers, Clint spent the rest of the morning in a ridiculously good mood.

But when Clint was informed that Natasha kept making his pancakes at least three times a week, he sulked for three hours. Fury stopped pretending that he could understand the idiotic archer he was suddenly given custody of.

Back at StarkTower, exactly a month after Natasha's secret arrow mirage, Bruce found something he wasn't really supposed to.

He had very politely knocked on Natasha's door. She didn't answer, and Bruce had slowly opened the door to see if she was okay. There was no sign of the spy anywhere. With a smile, Bruce figured out where she would be.

He calmly made his way to the roof, prepared to convince her to come back down to her room and sleep. It had happened before.

When he finally got to the roof, Bruce found her perch. Natasha had been stargazing flat on her back when the days stress had gotten to her. She was fast asleep, her fast growing hair splayed out under her. Bruce found himself smiling at her. She looked so tired and so content. He didn't want to move her, but he couldn't leave her there with a clear conscious. Bruce shrugged off his suit jacket and worked it over her bare shoulders to give her more coverage from the cold night air than her tank top.

With a great effort, Bruce lifted her into his arms. He was a regularly aging human most of the time, so his back started to protest as he carried her, but he still got her into the elevator and knocked the right button.

Steve intercepted, on his way to the roof himself to do his own private reminiscing. He took Natasha's light weight from Bruce and effortlessly lifted her back to her room. Steve didn't touch the blazer and just gently arranged the sleeping spy on top of her bed. Bruce took one last look at her and then left for his own room for the night. Steve lingered for just a second longer, taking a moment to brush a curl away from her pale face.

Before going up to the roof, Steve stopped in his room again to get his sketch pad and pencils. A stroke of inspiration had hit him and he just needed to draw.

When he finally reached his destination, Steve took on look at the city around him and started drawing. A picture of the Natasha and the best friend she lost laughing on the street below him slowly started forming. The shadows and expressions made his friends come to life under his hands, happy and alive. Steve smiled and turned to the next page, drawing Tony and Bruce at the lab with Tony's usual playful expression contrasting Bruce's serious one. Loki and Thor took up the next page and then it was just two more pages of Natasha. Just Natasha.

Steve had spent half of the night drawing his friends and he didn't care. He had gone to the roof to sulk and then he found his redemption in drawing good memories. He owed a lot to his friends just for that.

When he packed up his things and turned to leave, Steve was startled by a noise from the building next door. It was a loud thud followed by another one. He looked just in time to see a head of brown hair disappearing from his view by lying down. He could have sworn he saw something hanging off of the person's back in the same way that a quiver would, but that was just ludicrous. "No," Steve said out loud, closing his own argument before it got started.

The next day when Steve picked up his sketch pad he noticed that two pictures had gone missing and fully expected to see them colored later on. However, they never reappeared.

Fury walked into Clint's room the next morning and immediately turned around. He didn't need to know how he had gotten a picture of Natasha grinning in her Black Widow uniform and a picture of he and Natasha in street clothes laughing on Main Street. He also didn't need to know why they clearly looked like they had been drawn by Rogers. He didn't need to know, he didn't want to know.

But when Clint woke up and lazily stretched, the first thing he saw was Natasha smiling back at him.

**Is she dealing a little bit better now? I know someone said Natasha would just lose it. So I tried to salvage it a little bit. **

**I know it wasn't a lot of emotional fluff, but I'm rather pleased with the way it turned out. More and more people are starting to get suspicious. **

**Again, I'm sorry about the wait and I hope you guys like the way this chapter ended up. Someone started following it yesterday and I had a surge of desire to continue this. So here it is. **

**Also, I have a weird question. Would anyone be willing to read the first chapter or two of an original piece of fiction that I'm working on? It's different from this but I would love some feedback on it. I know, weird question, I'm sorry. **

**Review! (If you aren't to angry with me for the wait)**

**Until next time. **


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